A week had passed since the mall incident, and Nana still flinched at sudden noises.
Xavier noticed everything—the way her hands trembled slightly when they passed the mall, how she checked over her shoulder more frequently, the nightmares that made her text him at 3 AM just to hear that he was okay.
She was traumatized by violence he had committed.
And all he could do was hold her and lie.
This morning, he'd arrived at her estate early to drive her to art class. She'd answered the door still in her pajamas, hair messy from sleep, and his heart had done that stupid, painful clench it always did when he saw her.
"Xaviee! You're early!" She'd pulled him inside. "Give me ten minutes!"
Twenty minutes later, she'd emerged in her art class outfit—paint-stained overalls over a white shirt, hair loose and wavy. She'd handed him a hair tie and a pink ribbon without a word, then sat on the couch and tilted her head back expectantly.
This was routine. Had been since high school.
Xavier's fingers were gentle as he gathered her soft hair, securing it in a ponytail, then tying the ribbon in a neat bow. His hands—hands that had killed three men just last night—were impossibly careful with the delicate pink silk.
"Done," he murmured.
Nana turned to face him, and her expression was soft, almost wondering. She reached up to trace his face with her fingertips—his cheekbone, his jaw, the bridge of his nose.
"Your parents must have been so beautiful," she said quietly. "To make someone who looks like you."
Xavier's chest tightened painfully. His mother had been beautiful, yes. Before the Serpent Guild had put three bullets in her when he was five. Before her blood had soaked into their kitchen floor while little Xavier hid in the cupboard like she'd told him to.
His father—the former Shen devil's—had been handsome in a cruel way. Cold blue eyes. Silver hair. The same features Xavier had inherited along with an empire built on corpses.
"Starlight," he said softly, flicking her forehead gently. "You're staring again."
"Can't help it." She grinned, not even embarrassed. "You look like a macaron. Pretty and perfect."
"A macaron?"
"Yes. The fancy kind from that French bakery. All perfect and aesthetic." She stood, grabbing her portfolio. "Okay, I'm ready! Don't want to be late again."
They walked to his car—a modest sedan he kept for civilian activities, nothing like the bulletproof SUVs his organization used. He opened her door, made sure she was settled, then drove her to the art academy.
The campus was already bustling with students when they arrived. Xavier parked near the entrance, and Nana gathered her things.
"Pick you up at four?" he asked.
"Yes, please!" She was already halfway out of the car when she paused, turning back to look at him with those devastating pink eyes. "Thank you for always taking care of me, Xaviee."
"Always, Starlight."
She smiled, but didn't move. Just looked at him like she was memorizing his face.
Xavier's hand came up to cup her cheek gently. Then, surprising even himself, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Nana's eyes went wide.
They hugged all the time. Held hands constantly. She sat in his lap like it was her personal throne. But this—this gentle kiss—was new territory.
"Go study," he murmured against her forehead. "I'll pick you up later."
Nana blinked rapidly, her cheeks flushing pink. She nodded mutely, then suddenly smacked his hand playfully. "Y-you can't just—that's not fair—"
She scrambled out of the car, waving at him as she hurried toward the building. Several of her classmates had witnessed the moment, and Xavier could hear their excited whispers even from the car.
"Who is that?!"
"He's so handsome!"
"Is that Nana's boyfriend?!"
Nana disappeared into the building, glancing back once with a shy smile.
Xavier watched until she was safely inside.
Then his smile vanished like it had never existed.
His phone was already buzzing with the encrypted message he'd been expecting:
**Meeting confirmed. Mr. Johnny. Location: Warehouse District, Building 47. 2 PM.**
Xavier checked his watch. He had five hours before he needed to pick up Nana.
Plenty of time to handle business.
Plenty of time to kill whoever needed killing.
He put the car in drive and headed toward the warehouse district, his expression carved from ice.
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Building 47 was one of Xavier's legitimate fronts—a "shipping company" that moved cargo containers. What was actually in those containers was another matter entirely.
Xavier arrived exactly on time, his men already positioned throughout the building. Jihoon met him at the entrance.
"Status?"
"Mr. Johnny arrived with twelve bodyguards. All armed. He's in the main office." Jihoon's expression was grim. "Boss, his connection to the Anderson Corporation—"
"I know." Xavier's jaw tightened. "He's one of Richard Anderson's business rivals. They've been fighting over government contracts for years."
"If he's here to negotiate using Miss Anderson as leverage—"
"Then he's already a dead man. He just doesn't know it yet."
Xavier strode into the building, his footsteps echoing on concrete. He was dressed for business today—tailored black suit, silver cufflinks, the bracelet Nana had given him glinting at his wrist.
He looked like a young executive.
He moved like a predator.
The main office was spacious, decorated to look legitimate. Mr. Johnny sat behind the desk like he owned it—a man in his fifties, overweight, with cruel eyes and a smile that didn't reach them.
"Ah! The famous Shen devil's!" Johnny stood, spreading his arms. "So young! I heard the rumors, but seeing you in person... you're just a boy."
Xavier's expression didn't change. "Mr. Johnny. You requested this meeting."
"I did, I did." Johnny gestured to the chairs, to the whiskey already poured. "Please, sit. Let's talk business like civilized men."
Xavier sat, accepting the whiskey glass but not drinking. Twelve guards positioned around the room. Jihoon and three of Xavier's men standing behind him. The numbers were even.
For now.
"I'll be direct," Johnny said, taking a long drink. "I want the Anderson Corporation to withdraw their bid for the military contract. And I think you can help me with that."
"Why would I do that?"
Johnny's smile widened. "Because I know your weakness, boy. Everyone in the underground knows by now. The Anderson girl. Nana, isn't it? Pretty little thing. I've seen photos."
Xavier's fingers tightened fractionally on the whiskey glass. The only sign of his rage.
"Careful," he said softly.
"Oh, I'll be careful. Very careful." Johnny leaned back, supremely confident. "Here's my offer: you convince Richard Anderson to withdraw his bid, and I won't have to resort to... unpleasant measures. No one wants to see that sweet girl get hurt, do we?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"You're threatening her," Xavier said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm offering you a business solution! Think about it—one conversation with her father, the bid is withdrawn, everyone wins. The girl stays safe, you keep your reputation, I get my contract. Simple!"
Xavier set down his whiskey glass very carefully.
Then he smiled.
It was the smile of a wolf.
"No."
Johnny blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No deal." Xavier stood slowly, and his men immediately tensed, hands moving toward weapons. "You made three mistakes today, Mr. Johnny."
"Mistakes?" Johnny laughed, but it sounded nervous. "Boy, I don't think you understand the situation—"
"First mistake," Xavier continued, his voice deadly calm, "you mentioned her name. Second mistake, you looked at photos of her. Third mistake—" His eyes went ice cold. "—you thought I would negotiate."
Xavier's hand moved to the gun holstered at his side.
Johnny's face paled. "Now wait just a—"
"She is mine," Xavier said softly. "Touch her, threaten her, even think about her again—" He pulled the gun, aiming it directly at Johnny's forehead. "—and you die."
Chaos erupted.
Johnny's guards drew their weapons. Xavier's men did the same. For one frozen moment, everyone was aiming at everyone else.
Johnny stood, pulling his own gun with shaking hands. "You're making a mistake, boy! I have connections! I can send men to grab her right now—right now while you're here! What will you do then?!"
Xavier's blood turned to ice. Then to fire.
The rage that flooded through him was primal, absolute, all-consuming.
*While you're here.*
*Right now.*
*Grab her.*
His Starlight. In art class. Vulnerable. While he was across the city.
Xavier moved.
It wasn't human speed—it was his light evol combined with teleportation, a blur of white light and silver hair and absolute violence.
He appeared behind Johnny, gun pressed to the base of his skull. "Wrong answer."
Then everything happened at once.
Johnny tried to turn, to fire. Xavier slammed him face-first into the desk so hard the wood cracked. A guard rushed forward; Jihoon shot him. Another guard fired; Xavier teleported, appeared behind him, put two bullets in his back.
The office became a war zone.
Xavier moved through it like a dancer, like something born for this specific purpose. Teleporting between targets, each appearance marked by gunfire, by blood, by another body dropping.
He was elegant. Efficient. Merciless.
A guard aimed at Jihoon; Xavier materialized, grabbed the guard's gun hand, twisted until bones shattered, then put the man's own gun under his chin and fired.
Another rushed him with a knife; Xavier caught his wrist, redirected the blade into the man's own stomach, then finished it with a bullet to the head.
He was everywhere at once—behind, beside, above—teleporting in bursts of light that left his enemies disoriented and dying.
The world narrowed to targets and eliminations.
*Threat. Eliminate.*
*Threat. Eliminate.*
*Threat to her. Eliminate.*
When the gunfire finally stopped, eleven of Johnny's twelve guards were dead. The last one was on his knees, begging.
"Please—please—I didn't know—I just needed the money—"
Xavier pressed the gun to his forehead. "You signed up to kidnap her."
"I didn't know it was the Shen devil's girl! Please! I have a family—"
"Should have thought of that before."
The shot echoed.
Twelve down.
Xavier turned to Johnny, who'd tried to crawl toward the door. Xavier's boot came down on his back, pinning him.
"My men," Xavier said calmly, checking his phone. "Are already at her art class. She's safe. Your men won't even get close."
Johnny sobbed. "Please—"
"You called her stupid. A naive rich girl." Xavier crouched down, grabbing Johnny's hair and forcing his head up. "She's not stupid. She's beautiful and kind and everything good in this fucking world. And you—" He pressed the gun to Johnny's temple. "—don't deserve to breathe the same air."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll leave her alone! I'll leave the city!"
"Too late."
Xavier fired.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
Ten bullets in Johnny's skull, fired with the mechanical precision of someone who'd stopped feeling human hours ago.
When he finally stopped, the silence was deafening.
Xavier stood in the middle of carnage—twelve bodies, blood pooled on concrete, the smell of gunpowder and death thick in the air.
His suit was splattered with blood. His hands were steady. His breathing was calm.
He looked around at the mess he'd made and felt... nothing.
No regret.
No guilt.
Just cold satisfaction that another threat was eliminated.
"Boss." Jihoon's voice was careful. "Your arm."
Xavier looked down. A bullet had grazed his left bicep, tearing through his suit jacket. Blood soaked the fabric. There was also a deep cut across his throat from when Johnny had lunged with a knife—not deep enough to be fatal, but enough to bleed profusely.
"Get the clean-up crew," Xavier said, his voice flat. "I want this building sanitized in an hour. Bodies disappeared. No evidence."
"Already called them. Boss, you need medical—"
"I need to pick up Nana at four." Xavier checked his phone. 3:17 PM. "That gives me forty-three minutes."
"You're bleeding—"
"I've bled before." Xavier was already moving toward the door. "Have Dr. Yoon meet me at the apartment. Full supplies. I need to be presentable in forty minutes."
"Boss—"
Xavier paused at the door, looking back at the bodies. At Johnny's corpse, now barely recognizable as human.
"Anyone else makes a move on her," Xavier said softly, "and this is mercy compared to what I'll do."
Then he was gone, teleporting out of the warehouse in a flash of light.
Behind him, Jihoon surveyed the carnage and pulled out his phone.
"Clean-up crew, Building 47. Priority Alpha. Total sanitization required."
He paused, looking at the massive pool of blood, the bullet casings, the sheer brutality of the scene.
Their boss had been born into this world. Raised in blood. Trained to kill before most kids learned to drive.
But Jihoon had never seen him like this.
So brutal. So merciless. So absolutely consumed by rage.
All because someone had threatened to touch her.
If anything actually happened to the Anderson girl...
Jihoon didn't want to imagine what the Shen devil's would become.
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3:47 PM.
Xavier stood in his apartment bathroom, Dr. Yoon stitching the cut on his throat with practiced efficiency.
"Thirteen stitches on your arm," she said clinically. "Eleven on your throat. You're lucky it didn't hit the carotid artery."
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Xavier's voice was flat. "How long to heal?"
"Visible? Three weeks minimum. The throat cut is going to scar."
"Make it not visible. I have thirteen minutes."
Dr. Yoon sighed but pulled out her makeup kit—waterproof concealer, color corrector, setting powder. She worked quickly, covering the stitches on his throat, the bruising around the cuts, making everything disappear under layers of expertly applied cosmetics.
"The arm I can hide under your jacket. But Xavier—" She met his eyes in the mirror. "—you can't keep doing this. Eventually, she'll notice."
"I'll deal with that when it happens."
"And if it happens today? If she hugs you and feels the stitches? If she sees through the makeup?"
Xavier stood, shrugging into a clean jacket—navy blue, casual, hiding the blood-soaked bandages underneath. He checked his reflection.
Sleepy college student. Gentle Xaviee. No sign of the monster who'd just slaughtered thirteen men.
"She won't," he said simply.
Because she couldn't.
Because if Nana ever saw what he really was, looked at him with fear instead of love...
Xavier would rather die.
He checked his phone. 3:52 PM.
"I need to go."
He was out the door before Dr. Yoon could protest, moving through the apartment building at human speed, getting into his car like any normal person picking up their best friend from class.
The drive to the art academy took six minutes.
Nana was waiting outside, portfolio in hand, chatting with some classmates. When she saw his car, her face lit up like the sun.
That smile.
That beautiful, innocent, sunshine smile.
Xavier pulled up, and she waved goodbye to her friends before climbing into the passenger seat.
"Xaviee! You're right on time!" She leaned over to hug him immediately—a brief, tight squeeze that made Xavier's stitches pull painfully.
He didn't flinch. Just hugged her back with one arm, his other hand steady on the wheel.
"How was class?" he asked.
"So good! We learned about impressionist techniques, and I painted this landscape that Professor Kim said was really promising! Want to see?"
"Show me at home. Seatbelt, Starlight."
She buckled up, already pulling out her phone to show him photos of her painting.
Xavier drove carefully, listening to her chatter about her day, about her classmates, about everything normal and bright and good.
His throat ached under the makeup. His arm throbbed with each movement. Under his jacket, blood was slowly soaking through the bandages.
But he smiled and asked questions and acted exactly like the Xaviee she knew.
All while thirteen bodies were being dissolved in acid across the city.
All while his knuckles still had someone else's blood under the nails.
All while the monster wore her best friend's face and prayed she'd never see the truth.
"Xaviee?" Nana's voice pulled him back. "You're quiet. Are you okay?"
He glanced at her—small and precious and trusting—and forced his expression into gentle warmth.
"Just tired, Starlight. Long day."
"Mmm." She reached over and patted his head like he was a sleepy cat. "Want to nap at my place? We can watch that new K-drama."
"Sounds perfect."
She smiled and went back to scrolling through her phone.
Xavier kept driving, his hands steady on the wheel despite everything.
Born without mercy, his father had once said. Born for this world.
But not born to be loved by someone like her.
The silver bracelet caught the afternoon sun, the blue star charm glinting.
He'd burn the entire world down before he let anyone touch her.
And he'd smile while doing it.
That was the kind of monster he was.
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To be continued.